


run and run

by chymyg (greetingsfrommaars)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: (of the werewolf variety), Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Human Kun, M/M, Secret Identity, Square: Werefolk, eating doyoung’s flowers for funsies, kun’s morning 8km runs, wayv wolf pack au!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29099649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greetingsfrommaars/pseuds/chymyg
Summary: The one where Kun takes the pack on a run, none of the neighbor's flowers get eaten, and Kun comes home to a surprise.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun
Comments: 22
Kudos: 122
Collections: THE COLLECTION





	run and run

Doyoung hears them before he sees them.

He’s on his knees among the peonies, fruitlessly trying to brush off the ants so he can take a picture. His gardening pants (disposable, comfy, sit weirdly around his hips) are caked in dirt all the way up his shins. Is it worth it to scramble into a less ridiculous position? He sighs and resigns himself to looking a little undignified. At least this isn’t too bad on the sliding scale of things.

He used to listen for the sound of many collars jingling, before he realized there weren’t any. Sometimes he’d get really into the flow of weeding out his flower beds, and he’d look up to find himself surrounded. (Kun was very apologetic about it, but that didn’t make up for the mortification of Doyoung screaming on sight. The neighbors must think he’s some kind of unsocialized moron.) A lesser gardener would faint at the sight, but Doyoung answers to a higher calling. He spent way too long identifying the right type of soil for these peonies to just crush them all to smithereens in a moment of weakness.

Fortunately for them all, the neighbors have since learned to announce their arrival beforehand. There’s a clarion call of, “Incoming!” and then, in case that wasn’t enough, a chorus of raucous barking.

Kun bursts into view in a dazzling display of atrocious off-brand track clothing. Like every other morning, Doyoung marvels at the spectacle. What a specimen, that Kun.

(Sometimes Doyoung wonders what kind of human being would willingly subject themselves to an early run every morning. Sure, Doyoung’s up too, but he’s performing garden maintenance, which is a subset of image maintenance. The front yard gardens are the face of the homestead.

But then Doyoung looks at Kun, and he understands. The man has to work off the sins of his clothing choices somehow.)

Kun comes to a halt at a polite, lawful distance from the edge of Doyoung’s lawn. Then the real spectacle begins.

They pour around the corner in a stream of silver passing through the air. They’re massive, majestic – fur rippling as they run, like waves under sunlight. Each loping gait passes easily into the next, and the next, in a continuous fluid motion. If the entire pack of dogs wasn’t less than two meters from him, Doyoung could have shed a tear. They close in around Kun, their clear gravitational center.

There’s Lucas (the giant among giants). Then comes the one who runs everywhere with his tongue lolling at the side. Next comes Hendery, the one with a weird pink tinge at the end of his tail (Kun claims a hair dye mishap). Then the degenerate who always tries to sneak a chomp on Doyoung’s sunflowers when he’s not looking. And finally Winwin, who does an astonishing dog impression of a human looking to the side and pretending he doesn’t know any of them. The resemblance is uncanny. Sometimes Doyoung could swear that dog is judging him for his past screaming. There’s one missing: the one who spends their morning chats running circles around Kun, when he isn’t pushing up into Doyoung’s hands and practically knocking him over to demand a pet. Doyoung hopes he’s doing well and getting his fill of pets from some other poor sod this fine morning.

Doyoung would feel bad about not knowing all of their names, but he’s quite certain Kun hasn’t actually told him all of them yet. He doesn’t know what Kun is waiting for. Maybe Doyoung has to prove himself worthy of the final level of Qian clan secrets.

Like the identity of Kun’s mystery boyfriend, for instance. After all this talk about how great he is – Kun can go on for ages – Doyoung’s not sure he’s even real. Can there really be some kind of artist-model-dancer extraordinaire who rescues puppies in his free time, the way Kun describes him? (That definitely explains the overflowing pack situation they’ve got going on there.) It’s clear the dogs love him, too. One of them always starts pretending to bite Kun’s hands when he talks about him.

“Lovely morning for a run!” Kun greets him. He has no apparent reaction to the massive dog (Lucas, Doyoung remembers) leaning half his weight on him. Doyoung revises his estimation of the sheer legs of steel this man must have.

Doyoung nods as if he knows about these things. Maybe if he stays kneeling where he is, his neighbor won’t notice the state of his pants.

“Oh yeah, totally,” he says. “Very, uh, breezy.”

Winwin snorts somewhere off to the side. Doyoung wishes he wouldn’t do that. A few more times, and Doyoung will be forced to consider the possibility that 1) Kun’s dogs operate on a human level of intelligence (scary), and that 2) they still choose to eat Doyoung’s flowers in spite of that (utterly horrifying).

Doyoung could even believe it, honestly. Sometimes Kun kicks off a roll call, and the dogs actually bark one by one as if rattling off names. Doyoung shudders to think of what mischief they could get up to if they ever got bored of chasing squirrels. Or worse, if they had _opposable thumbs._

Fortunately, that latent threat can wait for another day. Hendery perks up his ears and takes off for the trees further down the road. The one with the tongue follows suit, and then the rest, until it’s just Kun and Winwin loitering at the end of Doyoung’s lawn. Kun shrugs at him sheepishly. Winwin huffs and trots away.

“Well, gotta run.” Kun flashes him a smile before leaving.

Doyoung waves. The instant Kun’s back is turned, he sags back on his heels and sighs. Another day, another Perfectly Normal interaction with Perfectly Normal neighborhood man Qian Kun.

Kun may look relatively unassuming, but that’s just on the surface, Doyoung’s sure. Look at what that man wears to jog. Look at the procession of gigantic canines following him around and hanging on his every word. That’s a man with hidden multitudes under the skin – a man with secrets buried down fathoms deep. So far, Doyoung can’t decide if it’s secrets along the lines of “aliens are real and they blend in perfectly except for the implausible pack of dogs”, or something more like “sleeper agents lie in wait for clandestine government initiatives involving super-engineered dogs”. With a man like Kun, anything could be possible.

But now he can be intimidating somewhere else, and it won’t be Doyoung’s problem.

He puts that thought out of his mind, and launches to his feet. Ignores the bout of dizziness that screams of dehydration. Levels his trowel at the flower bed, not a threat, but a promise.

“You’re next.”

The daffodils, bobbing gently in the breeze, have no response.  
  
  
  
It’s a lovely morning for a run, Yangyang agrees.

Running across Doyoung made it even better. The man’s reactions are hilarious. Dejun doesn’t even like sunflowers that much; he just likes to lead Doyoung on a chase when the gardener catches him. If Kun tries to scold him for it, he just says that Doyoung could use the exercise, and, well, Doyoung did turn down their invitation to join in on their runs all those months ago. At least he can get his heart rate up chasing Dejun around his own lawn.

It’s an impressive upgrade from the man who used to shriek the instant they showed up. Even better, once he got over his fear of “dogs” who weigh twice as much as he does, he started stocking up on dog treats. They’re probably meant as bribes in exchange for not eating his flowers, but whatever. Ten can turn up his nose at them all he likes. Free food is free food.

Actually, that’s a good idea. If Yangyang comes back with Kunhang and leaves an offering of Kun’s home cooking at Doyoung’s door, maybe Doyoung will forgive them for digging up a few of his roses. Heaven knows Ten is gonna need them at the rate he’s going.

Yangyang trots up to Kun and bumps his nose into Kun’s thigh. He basks in the warm laugh Kun lets out as he ruffles Yangyang’s ears. Yukhei barrels into Yangyang from the side, and Yangyang doesn't even care. He made Kun smile today.

Then Yukhei shoves at Kun’s leg so he can receive a pat too, and okay, Yangyang cares a little bit. This is Yangyang’s petting dispenser right now; shove off and get your own, Yukhei. So what if Yukhei was the one to bring Kun to them originally? 

Kun might not know it, but bringing him into the pack is definitely one of the best things they’ve ever done. They did have practical reasons for choosing to live in a more human-saturated area back then, but having to go around on two legs for weeks at a time was draining. The nearest good-sized forest was at least a couple hours away. None of them could drive at a level where they felt comfortable driving down any more than absolutely necessary, and it’s not like they could just run down there, even though they all had the stamina for it. Some human was bound to throw a fit and call animal control. But Kun has a license! Even better, Kun goes around on two legs all the time. He can be their token two-legger so no humans get scared!

It’s too bad Kun’s arms are swinging too fast for Yangyang to lick his hand.

Yangyang is just passing by the thickest stretch of forest in their neighborhood when a flicker of light catches his eye, and he takes a hard right to face the trees. There it is! He can just barely pick out the light between the trees, floating at human-waist-height, bobbing gently as if riding invisible waves. It pulses a gentle blue in rhythm, like waveforms in a sound file, and something in Yangyang sings back.

He takes off at a brisk run.

He knows this light. If he takes too long to follow, Renjun will get impatient and just lead him directly into a swamp. Not that Yangyang doesn’t love running around swamps after Renjun, but if they’re going to hang out today, he wants to hear whatever Renjun wanted to say.

“Ey, Yangyang! Where are you going?” Kun puts his hands on his hips and leans like a judgy grandma. Yangyang doesn’t understand. To the faerie light, obviously? “Home is _that_ way!”

Oh right, human eyes, not yet trained to see through the veil. Yangyang forgot. Has anyone even told Kun that fairies exist yet? Last Yangyang heard, they were still stuck on the reality of dragons. (Largely because Ten was hung up on talking Kun out of trying to ride one.) Then Dejun had come home with a new game, and Yangyang got distracted. For all he knows, Kun doesn’t even know vampires are real, and there’s one right down the street.

Oh shoot, has anyone told Kun about Taeyong the friendly neighborhood pastel vampire?

“Yangyang! Remember that we’re having baozi for breakfast today!”

Oh well, not his problem. Yangyang has more important stuff to eat – uh, to do.

There’s a new spring to Yangyang’s step now that he has something to rush home for. And when Yangyang trots back to the road where his brothers are waiting, Kun even waits long enough for Yangyang to sneak in a lick of greeting before he takes off again. Wonderful. This run is basically the highlight of the week at this point.

He gives Renjun a quick farewell bark before he goes, so he doesn’t feel forgotten. The faerie light winks once.  
  
  
  
Ten’s morning is already on its way down the drain when he hears them coming.

It’s not very difficult, supernaturally enhanced hearing or not. He hears a yip that sounds like Sicheng in the distance, and then Kunhang carries it into a howl that Ten knows for a fact Kunhang learned from him. There’s no going back after that. Many voices join in. Ten knows without looking that the entire pack is now barreling down the driveway like some kind of screaming horde from the depths of suburbia. Heathens, the lot of them.

Well, almost all of them. Ten can hear Kun shouting for peace through the din. He’d bet anything Kun is waving his arms around as if he could orchestra-conduct the pack into shutting up, and the thought brings a smile to Ten’s face.

He appreciates Kunhang’s very blatant warning for him, even if the gesture is moot. The pack failed the actual objective: keeping Kun busy until Ten was ready. What’s a pack good for if they can’t even waste thirty minutes outside for a good cause?

Ten looks at the ruins of his work in front of him and admits defeat.

“Love, we’re home!”

There’s the clatter of Kun kicking off his shoes at the door, and the clicking of claws on the floor. Dejun trots into the kitchen to stare up at Ten with huge eyes in case some meat _accidentally_ finds its way to the floor. Ten just swats him away. “You have your own hands, you big dumb. Go wash them like a civilized person!”

Dejun lets out a disgruntled harrumph and clicks away.

“Ten, love, did you start something on the stove? It smells amazing in here, but I didn’t – oh.”

Ten sighs. Time to face his fate. He turns around and throws up sad jazz hands. “Surprise?”

Kun’s face falls into a cute little “o” of surprise, but he’s not looking at Ten – he’s noticed the decorations behind him. The ones that start with “HAPP” and end with “ANNIVER”, specifically. (In Ten’s defense, it was going really well until that second P, but then he couldn’t find either of the Y’s, and then he got through most of “anniversary” before he realized he’d forgotten to keep an eye on the baozi. By then it was too late.)

“Wait, you were trying to surprise me?” Now Kun’s grinning. “Is this why you skipped the run this morning?”

There’s a snort from the hall. Sicheng strolls past, giving him a wolfish smirk. Ten wishes he were within range to shut up with a mouthful of failed baozi.

Ten allows himself to be drawn into Kun’s arms. He still has flour on his shirt, and Kun hasn’t showered, but the warmth seeps through into his chest. “Emphasis on _try._ The dough was mean and wouldn’t cooperate.”

Kun hums in understanding. “How rude. Did you give it a good kneading to show it who’s boss?”

“I thought I did! But then the baozi started collapsing while I wasn’t looking.” Delicious traitors that they are. He was so careful with the proportions of seasonings, only for the buns to give up at the last minute. He just wanted to get this done for Kun so he wouldn’t have to, so he could come home to breakfast already warm and steaming on the table… And look where they’ve ended up.

“I’m sorry I ruined breakfast,” Ten tells him.

“Hey, whoa, don’t apologize.” Kun tugs Ten over to the stove, where he looks over the proof of Ten’s failure. “The meat’s cooked all the way through anyway, right?”

“Right…”

“Then it’s easy. We’ll have rou jia mo for breakfast! And wow, we don’t even have to assemble them ourselves! This is great, Ten.” Kun smiles at him, dimples out, and Ten can’t resist poking one with a floury finger. This is the man he loves. Trust Kun to turn the situation around in a heartbeat and make it sound like it was Ten’s idea all along. Kun catches that finger in his hand and pretends to eat it. Oh no, Ten’s been caught, and he won’t let go.

“Rou jia mo!” Kunhang bellows like a sports announcer, walking in.

Ten can already hear the reactions from elsewhere in the house. “Rou jia mo?” “Rou jia mo!” “IS BREAKFAST READY?” “We can all hear you, dude. Chill out.”

“Clothes on at the dining table, guys!” Kun calls.

The kitchen’s suddenly full of excited wolves, plates in hand. When did they grab those? Ten tries to apologize again, to the pack in general, but no one lets him. They bustle him off to the other room, insisting that they’ll handle serving the food.

He slips a hand into Kun’s and waits.

By the time everyone’s settled, Kun has taken Ten’s hand into both of his, rubbing slow circles into it absentmindedly.

Yukhei has already put away half a plate on his own. Yangyang is egging him on; Kunhang is trying to race him to a clean plate. Dejun is heaping Lao Gan Ma onto his portion and handing every other alarmingly orange bun to Sicheng, who gulps them down in seconds.

Kun turns and smiles at him.

Ten beams back. Then he shoves a bun into Kun’s mouth – lovingly, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> – this fic exists because i really like the mental image of kun jogging along with an entire line of absolutely massive wolves behind him  
> – if i got the number of km wrong in the tags, please let me know lol  
> – doyoung doesn’t know yangyang’s, dejun’s, or ten’s names because they either can’t be bothered to come up with dog aliases or are being too indecisive about it  
> – i’ve never actually made baozi, so this might be inaccurate. i have helped make rou jia mo though, which is to say that i did the easy part at the end! ^.^
> 
> the backstory is that once upon a time, kun found a puppy in the rain and brought it home. but then he woke up to a teenager with a cold instead, asking for help returning to his family, and kun was like who the hell are you?? sure, okay. then he met the family and all of them were cute the adorable way (he’s a large animal enthusiast apparently) but one of them was pretty cute the other way… then kun fell in love and he never left


End file.
